Blackened

First you see them as hints

They come into closer view

And you think roadkill corpses

But it’s really just another exploded tire

Kind of like online posts

Lumbering 18 wheelers who occasionally let one loose

Passing gassilly

Passing gas silly

Leaving a blackened remembrance of your passing

On the littered roadside

Blown, literally

Living on as scattered bits of used to be

Souvenirs of unfortunately

 

 

David Trudel  ©  2013

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s